There's nowhere to go
for everywhere is here and...

Roses are countless
so as the pages of this...

You, my creation, my art,
you every throb...

Who is this guy, hiding in me,
who is so drowned in himself...

Is it about my bookshelf
or is it about the depth behind all those books on...

Our death is intended
unless we prove otherwise...

It was only for a few moments
but they were infinite...

In the confluence
of two opposite successions...

What a hug-less night!
what infectious cruelty...

I love and you leave
Then...

We've indisputably
put up a fight...

A plastic rose last
forever for it is dead...